Such Great Heights

by Sydney Logan

  Jackson steps behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He nuzzles my hair, and I melt against his chest.

  “I’m kissing you tonight.”

  Butterflies erupt in my stomach.

  “Is that right?”

  “That’s exactly right,” he murmurs against my ear. “And I’d rather not do it in public for the whole world to see. However, if that kid doesn’t hurry —”

  I almost confess that I couldn’t care less who sees as long as I get my kiss, but then the valet arrives with the car.

  “Jackson, I’m in heels,” I remind him with a laugh.

  He ignores me and the nice doorman and all but drags me to the elevator.

  Not that I mind.

  Jackson pushes the button for the penthouse, and my mind starts fantasizing about a hot elevator kiss just as a tuxedoed man joins us.

  “Tenth floor, please,” he says, barely glancing our way.

  Jackson reaches for the button.

  “Oh. Evening, Jackson.”

  “Pete.”

  “I saw you at the benefit tonight. Meant to say hello but you seemed . . . occupied.” Pete lets his eyes roam over me. “And understandably so.”

  I shudder under his gaze. Jackson notices my discomfort and pulls me close to his side.

  “Anyway, it was a wonderful gala,” Pete says as the elevator reaches his floor. “Goodnight.”

  “It was. Goodnight, Pete.”

  Pete gives me another disgusting glance before stepping out.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t introduce you.”

  “Not at all. That guy’s a creep.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  We both forget about Creepy Pete when the elevator finally reaches the penthouse floor. Eager to get inside, Jackson clutches my hand tightly while he unlocks the door. It’s late, so we’re both surprised to find the light on in the foyer.

  My stomach drops.

  Surely everything’s okay. Hazel would’ve called, wouldn’t she?

  Our eyes flicker around the living room. Everything seems okay. At the very least, the floor isn’t littered with broken toys.

  Jackson and I slowly walk toward Ryder’s bedroom, where we find Hazel on the bed, with our sleeping boy in her arms.

  “Everything’s okay,” she says softly. “But he’s been running a fever all night. I wanted to check it again. He woke up, asking for you both.”

  Concerned, we walk toward the bed. I place my hand on his forehead. He does feel warm.

  “Why didn’t you call?” Jackson asks.

  “I didn’t want to ruin your evening because of a low-grade fever. I gave him some medicine, which he took without a fight, so you know the little guy’s not feeling well at all. His temp is down some.”

  “I hope it’s not the flu,” I murmur. “His teacher said it’s going around.”

  Hazel nods. “I called the pediatrician. She said if he gets worse to give her a call.”

  The three of us kiss his forehead, and Hazel gingerly slips the little boy out of her arms and under the blanket. She turns on the baby monitor and follows us out into the hall. His monitor is connected to an app on all our phones, and I start to fish my cell out of my clutch just as Hazel shakes her head.

  “I’ll watch him tonight. Don’t turn yours on.”

  “Hazel, you’ve had him all night.”

  “I promise it’s fine.” She smiles knowingly at each of us. “Sooo . . . how was your evening? Mrs. Healey called.”

  Jackson snorts. “I’m sure she did. You two gossip like old women.”

  Hazel shoots him a playful glare before smiling at me. “I knew she’d love you, as did Mr. Healey.”

  “We had a wonderful night. Thanks for watching Ryder so that I could have a grown-up evening.”

  “Anytime. And I mean that.”

  “Yes, Hazel, thank you,” Jackson said, glancing down the hallway. “Besides the fever, how was the night? Any tantrums?”

  “None. He did get a little teary-eyed when you both left, but I reminded him that Daddy promised to bring Olivia home, and that he’d see her in the morning. He seemed content until the fever hit. Then he was just fussy, but that’s understandable. Otherwise, it was a perfect night.”

  Jackson and I exchange smiles. It really was.

  Hazel takes the hint.

  “Well, I’m going to bed, and I’ll turn on my monitor. No arguments.”

  “Are you sure?” Jackson asks. “You have to be exhausted.”

  “I’m positive. You two enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  Hazel gives me a wink before turning off the lights and heading to her room. We wait until we hear the door close before turning to face one another. Even in the dark, his gaze pierces me, leaving me breathless.

  Suddenly nervous, I take off his jacket and place it on the couch before slipping out of my heels. I don’t know what to do now. Should I go change? I feel ridiculous in this gown. But he’s still in his tux, and I watch, mesmerized, as he undoes his bowtie.

  “Come with me,” he murmurs gently, offering me his hand.

  Jackson leads me out onto the terrace. The air is brisk, but I’m not cold at all. Probably because as soon as he closes the glass door, he wraps me in his arms, pulling me close to his chest. Lifting my gaze to his, Jackson slowly brings his face close to mine.

  Beneath the pale moonlight of the Nashville sky, Jackson’s lips softly find mine. Our bodies tremble . . . all the adrenaline and yearning that’s coursed through our veins finally bubbling to the surface, causing us both to moan.

  It’s everything a first kiss should be. Soft and sweet and gentle.

  Then Jackson pulls away, breathless, as he leans his forehead against mine. His eyes search my face, secretly seeking permission, looking for any sign of regret or uncertainty.

  Finding none, he groans my name before hungrily crashing his mouth to mine, causing me to whimper, and all the sweetness and innocence of that first kiss is gone.

  When we’re finally forced to come up for air, Jackson holds me close as I rest my head against his chest. We stay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, under the twinkling stars, until he finally whispers.

  “Was it worth the wait?”

  With a contented smile, I lift my head and gaze at him.

  “Absolutely worth the wait.”

  And it was.

  “For me, too,” he says softly, tenderly tracing my cheek with his fingertip. “But I don’t just mean the kiss, Olivia. I think . . . I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

  Tears fill my eyes, because I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for him, too.

  “Come here,” he murmurs.

  Jackson pulls me close, gently kissing my tears away.

  I can’t stop crying, so completely overwhelmed by the wave of emotions. Happiness. Desire. Warmth. Fear. And, if the look on Jackson’s face was any indication, he was right there with me on the rollercoaster . . . the kind of rollercoaster that you really want to experience, but you still close your eyes and hold on for dear life because you’re terrified.

  I shouldn’t be feeling what I’m feeling.

  He shouldn’t, either.

  But we do.

  We are.

  “You should try to sleep,” he whispers finally.

  “You, too.”

  Jackson nods and takes my hand, leading me back into the living room. We follow each other down the hall to my bedroom. I gasp softly when he flips on the light, and we find Ryder under my blanket.

  “I think somebody missed you tonight,” Jackson says softly, turning off the light.

  We walk over to the bed, and I lean down, gently pressing my lips to Ryder’s forehead.

  “He doesn’t feel nearly as warm.”

  “Good,” he says.

  I point to my bathroom. “I’m just gonna get out of this dress.”

  “Need some help?” Jackson murmurs. Then his eyes widen. “I . . . didn’t mean . . . I mean, I
thought you might need help with the zipper.”

  Laughing softly, I gently place my hand against his cheek.

  “I’m good, but thanks.”

  Jackson kisses my palm, causing goosebumps to erupt on my flesh.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He nods.

  I grab a nightshirt out of my drawer and head to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. As I remove my makeup, I gaze at the girl in the mirror. She’s excited, exhilarated, and exhausted. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are swollen.

  Very gently, I trace my bottom lip with my fingertip.

  I’ve had my share of first kisses.

  Good kisses. Perfectly acceptable kisses.

  I had no idea what I’d been missing.

  Deciding I’ve been gone long enough, I splash cold water on my face and brush my teeth before taking a deep breath and walking back into the bedroom. It’s hard to see in the dark, but the moonlight streaming through the curtains lands perfectly on my bed.

  And I stop in my tracks.

  My two favorite boys lie in my bed, arms wrapped around each other . . . fast asleep.

  My throat tightens as images flash through my mind. Visions of all three of us nestled in my bed, watching a silly movie. Taking vacations. Celebrating holidays.

  I shake my head. Visions like that are bound to break my heart.

  This isn’t my family.

  That little boy is Natasha’s son.

  That handsome man is Natasha’s husband.

  I’m just the nanny.

  The nanny who’s dangerously close to losing her heart . . . to both of them.

  With a heavy sigh, I check his forehead one last time before grabbing an extra pillow and heading to Ryder’s bedroom.

  To everyone’s relief, Ryder was his normal, rambunctious self the next morning. Hazel cooked a big breakfast, and after we helped clean up, she headed to the grocery store while the three of us camped out on the couch to watch a movie. No one said it, but after Ryder’s fever and our late night out, everybody seemed thankful to have a quiet, lazy Sunday.

  Nothing had been said about the odd sleeping arrangements, but as we watched the movie—with Ryder sandwiched between us—I’d sometimes catch Jackson looking at me, his face a mask of curiosity. I’m sure he wondered why I’d chosen to sleep in Ryder’s bed, but he didn’t ask, and I was grateful. Then, sometimes, the curious expression would be replaced with a mischievous smile, and in that moment, I knew Jackson was thinking about our amazing first kiss.

  Kisses.

  “You’re blushing,” Jackson whispers.

  “Shut up.”

  Ryder glances up at me. “Ms. Becky won’t let us say that.”

  “Say what?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Ms. Becky is absolutely right,” Jackson says, trying hard not to laugh. “Shut up isn’t a very nice thing to say.”

  I glare in his direction.

  “I’m sorry, Ryder. She’s right.”

  Seemingly satisfied, Ryder turns his attention back to the television. Jackson gives me a wink before kissing the top of his son’s head and fixing his gaze on the movie.

  After the credits roll, Ryder reaches for the remote.

  “Can we watch another movie?” he asks.

  “Sure,” Jackson says. “You pick.”

  With a grin, I watch as the kid works the remote like a pro. I, on the other hand, still have trouble finding the power button on the complicated gadget. Once Ryder picks a movie, he climbs down from the couch and lays on the floor, stretching out to enjoy Toy Story 4.

  “I just realized I haven’t checked my messages all day,” Jackson says. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  With Ryder content on the floor, both of us reach for our phones. I have texts from Dana and a voicemail from a number I don’t recognize. There’s also a message from my mom, who absolutely hates to text. In a panic, I check that one first.

  You looked beautiful last night! And Jackson is so handsome! Call me!!!

  Wow, that’s a lot of exclamation points. And how would she know how we looked last night? Puzzled, I check Dana’s message.

  WHY haven’t you called me? Have you seen today’s paper? Check the Entertainment section.

  I glance at Jackson. “Did you see the paper?”

  “I think it’s in the kitchen. Why?”

  “Dana says to check out the Entertainment section.”

  “Oh.” He grins. “I bet we’re in it.”

  “Us? Why?”

  Jackson chuckles and heads to the kitchen. When he returns, he’s already flipped to the section. There’s a picture of the two of us from last night, and beneath it, a caption.

  Nashville attorney Jackson Healey and his date, Miss Olivia Stuart, enjoy a dance at the annual Children’s Hospital Benefit Gala hosted by Healey and Associates.

  “Wow.”

  Jackson sits down next to me. “Sorry. I probably should’ve warned you. The press loves to take pictures at the gala. We don’t mind, because it’s good publicity for the event, which leads to more donations to the hospital.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. Just surprised, I guess.”

  He gazes at the image of the two of us.

  “They always take my picture,” he says softly. “But I think this is the first time I’ve actually looked happy in the photo. And that’s because you were there.”

  Jackson carefully folds the paper and tosses it aside before taking my hand in his.

  “Why didn’t you stay with us last night?”

  My eyes flicker to Ryder, who’s dozed off while watching his movie.

  “Because it was an emotional and confusing night. I just needed some space, I guess.”

  “Confusing how?”

  “Really?”

  He bows his head. “Sorry. I just . . . it was such an amazing night, Olivia. Or it was for me.”

  “It was for me, too.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  I can’t believe he’s going to make me say it first.

  “I’m feeling . . . things. Things I shouldn’t be feeling.”

  With a soft smile, he lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles.

  “I feel them, too.”

  “But that doesn’t make it right. We shouldn’t be feeling anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Seriously? Do I really have to explain this to you?”

  He shakes his head. “Come with me.”

  Taking me by the hand, Jackson leads me out onto the terrace.

  “Leave the door open. In case Ryder wakes up,” I tell him.

  Jackson nods, and I walk over to the ledge. Peering down, I fix my gaze on the people below us, so small and completely unaware that I’m above them, completely losing my mind. And my heart.

  “Olivia,” he says softly, “do you know how many years I’ve been miserable? How many black-tie events I’ve absolutely despised because I was so unhappy? Last night was amazing. You are amazing.”

  His sweet words warm my heart, but the fact remains that nothing can happen. Not yet.

  “You’re a married man.”

  “I haven’t been married for a very long time.”

  “Maybe not in your heart. But legally . . . biblically . . . you are married.”

  “And I’m in the process of legally changing that. Biblically . . . well, I think God knows how hard I tried to make my marriage work. And I don’t think He expects me to stay married to someone who chose to leave me and my son.”

  While that’s all true, I still can’t forget the most important piece in this very complicated puzzle.

  “What about Ryder? What does he expect?”

  “Ryder loves you.”

  “But he also loves his mother. Doesn’t he?”

  Before he can answer, the living room phone echoes through the air, making us both jump.

  How odd. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the landline ring.

>   “Should you get that?”

  “Let the machine pick up,” he says. “Olivia, I refuse to pretend that last night didn’t happen. I can’t go back to that place. I can’t go back to pretending I don’t care about you. Because I do.”

  “I care about you, too. I truly do.”

  He smiles.

  “So, we’ll take our time,” he says. “I will try, somehow, to keep my hands to myself. But I have to admit . . . now that we’ve kissed, all I can think about is kissing you again.”

  Jackson brushes his nose against mine, and because I’m completely weak, I close my eyes. He tenderly kisses me, and for just a moment, I forget about the little boy sleeping peacefully in the living room.

  With a heavy sigh, I pull away and bury my face against his neck. Jackson wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly.

  “What are we gonna do?” I whisper against his skin.

  But he hears me.

  “I know what I’m going to do,” Jackson says. “I’m gonna call Marcus.”

  “Marcus?”

  “My divorce attorney.”

  I nod.

  “You’re right,” he says, holding me close. “Nothing can happen between us. Not while I’m married. If for no other reason than if Natasha’s lawyer even suspects I’m being unfaithful, they could try to drag this out even more. That’s the last thing I want.”

  “Me, too. So we need to keep our distance until your divorce is final. It’s the right thing to do, for everyone involved.”

  “Agreed,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “But . . . is kissing okay?”

  Honestly, it shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t be kissing a married man.

  But that ship has sailed.

  Besides, I don’t think I have the power to deny him.

  Or me.

  “Maybe just one.”

  Jackson grins, and I raise myself on my tiptoes, kissing him softly.

  When Jackson and I make our way back into the living room, we’re surprised to find Ryder gone and Hazel sitting on the couch, with a drink in hand.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drink.

  “Where’s Ryder?” Jackson asks. “And why are you drinking whiskey?”

  “How long were you two out on the terrace?”